


Wherever I start I end up with you

by dejas



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19750504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dejas/pseuds/dejas
Summary: “Catch, Harvard.” JT tosses a tape ball across the room and before Alexander knows it, it hits his head and bounces.He scowls, rubbing his head. It didn’t hurt, physically. His pride, however, is slightly bruised. “Warn a guy next time, asshole.”“I said catch,” JT says, grinning when Tyson doubles over in laughter. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”( Or Alexander has his whole life planned out... until he doesn't. )





	Wherever I start I end up with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [binchmarner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/gifts).



> As always, if you found this upon googling, exit immediately. This is a complete work of fiction and in no way am I implying that anything written in here is true. Stories are not meant to be circulated or shared with those written in them. All is loosely based on some real events, that is all.
> 
> This had to be done and I would say I'm sorry but.... TJ sent me downhill in a flaming wagon screaming over these two and whole tr*de didn't help matters so here we are! This is coping, friends! Also, I have this thing where I really love character studies and this was the perfect opportunity to dive right in and try writing something out of my comfort zone.
> 
> Big thank you to everyone who beta'd this in such short notice.

“Catch, Harvard.” JT tosses a tape ball across the room and before Alexander knows it, it hits his head and bounces.

He scowls, rubbing his head. It didn’t hurt, physically. His pride, however, is slightly bruised. “Warn a guy next time, asshole.” 

“I said catch,” JT says, grinning when Tyson doubles over in laughter. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“I’m smarter than you.” Alexander picks up the ball of tape, chucks it back and laughs when it hits JT square in his chest. “So there.”

“You’re both idiots,” Tyson decides with a fond smile as he makes his way across the locker room. Alexander would be mad, but he isn’t exactly wrong.

“And you chose to live with us. What does that say about you?” Alexander adds. When Tyson scoffs, Alexander checks off the invisible list in his mind. Check one for him.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, smile fond. “What was I thinking?”

To be fair, Alexander wonders the same at times. Tyson’s loud. JT is moody.

Still, he wouldn’t trade either of them for the world.

..

It starts off as a normal roommate dinner full of pasta and laughter. Tyson boils the pasta, JT heats up some sauce and Alexander does the rest. They talk about playoffs and how unexpected a first round victory was— how Tyson’s _sure_ they’ll do it again.

“You know the odds aren’t really in our favor,” Alexander says, cleaning the last bit of pasta off of his plate. “Like, statistically speaking.”

Tyson groans, standing and pushing in his chair. “Is this about to be another math lesson?”

“Isn’t it always?” JT reaches across the table, grabbing his bottle of water. “Later on we can sit around the fire while he reads from the encyclopedia.”

“Count me out,” Tyson says with a laugh, face lighting up when his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, looking quite pleased when he checks the screen. “Saved by the bae.”

A brief silence falls over the kitchen when Tyson disappears into the other room. Alexander thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to continue. “Don’t knock the encyclopedia. You could learn a lot from that.”

JT snorts. “Like how to say you’re a pretentious douche six different ways?”

“Rude,” Alexander counters. “Also that’s a thesaurus, dummy.”

“Big words, Harvard.” JT grins. “Oh and at my school? We actually had fun.”

“I had fun!” Alexander gasps. “ _And_ I got my degree.”

“Yeah, but did you _live_?” JT stands up, pushing in his chair.

Alexander laughs because of course he lived— just… differently. “I did plenty of living all while investing in my future. Try it sometime.”

“Oh I’m living right now,” JT says, setting his place in the sink. “I’m young and I’m in the NHL.”

“For now.” Alexander chews on his bottom lip. “I mean none of that is forever. What about after?”

JT turns, looking at Alexander as if he’s grown an extra head. JT’s odd looks are nothing new and remain amusing every time they happens. “After doesn’t matter right now, man.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a good idea to have a backup plan.” Alexander shrugs. He knows he’s not typical— has it all planned out. He sees himself retiring in Denver— buying a nice house on the outskirts— maybe even continuing his education. They’re dreams but all easily obtainable.

“Right now my plan is to win the cup.” JT leans against the table, eyes following as Alexander paces slightly. “So why can’t we focus on that first? I’ll let you set up my 401k for your day with the cup since you’ll already be busy doing its taxes.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Alexander says. “We won’t be winning anything if we don’t practice tomorrow.”

“You’re too high strung,” JT says with a roll of his eyes, pushing past Alexander. He turns on the kitchen sink, plates clinking together as he rinses them one by one. When he turns, placing them in the dishwasher, he doesn’t look back.

Alexander sighs because it isn’t like JT’s _wrong_ necessarily, it’s just… he likes to do things a little too by the book— because JT’s a little _too_ carefree sometimes, Tyson’s even worse and if someone has to keep a tight ship at their shared home, it’s Alexander.

“It’s Tyson’s night.” Alexander crosses his arms across his chest, not all that phased when JT doesn’t react. If it isn’t the sarcasm they have in common, it's the downright stubbornness.

“Tyson doesn’t mind,” JT says flatly, continuing to move dishes.

Alexander raises an eyebrow. “Of course he doesn’t mind. That’s not the point.”

“So he owes me one, whatever.” JT shuts off the water and shakes his hands over the sink. “He’s busy anyway.”

“What are you so pissy about anyway?” If Alexander sounds annoyed, it’s because he, decidedly, _is_. Not knowing why JT is upset is just as frustrating and if anyone has a right to be irrationally irritated, it’s Alexander. 

“Playoffs,” JT confesses, hands balling into fists. His shoulder relax slightly upon his confession. “It’s not all numbers and statistics. You know that.”

“I mean, it kind of is? Numbers, anyway.” Alexander tries not to laugh when JT rolls his eyes. “We want more goals than the other team. More goals equate to higher numbers.”

“And the longer you shut up, the more minutes I can go without getting a headache,” JT says and it’s apparent how over it all he is.

It’s amusing enough to keep Alexander going. “Okay, but consider this. I keep talking.”

“Or you can shut up. Like, right now.” JT smiles slightly this time and Alexander knows he’s broken through. He laughs and JT’s expression goes straight. “Seriously though.”

“I’m just saying,” Alexander grins, testing the water. “If we take the average number of goals we scored during the regular season and—”

It isn’t the first time JT’s kissed him. This time it’s different, fueled by something _other_ than liquor. JT cups his face, kissing hard and Alexander can only do what his brain allows— kiss back.

Alexander remembers doing this before— kind of— after a shitty loss, when Tyson took full advantage of the liquor cabinet and fell asleep upside down on the couch. He doesn’t remember much more— how he and JT ended up in the kitchen or the bedroom— just that both woke up a whole lot of hung over and lot less clothed.

JT’s hand moves to the base of Alexander’s neck and he steps backwards, stopping when his back hits the refrigerator. He has to shift over ever so slightly to keep the water dispenser from hitting awkwardly, but once he moves and JT kisses again— harder— it’s game on.

“Think we can move this elsewhere?” JT mumbles, head ducking and mouth dragging over the hollow of Alexander’s neck, causing him to shiver.

He knows saying yes is dangerous and yet considers, making a sound that’s more of a whimper than an answer. Alexander tries again, forcing words to form. “Yeah,” he manages, eyes flying open when he hears a loud snort.

“They’re doing it!” Tyson laughs from the hallway, turning his phone around just in time for Dante to see them pull apart quickly, hair out of place and fully flustered. All it does it make him (and Dante) laugh harder.

..

He’s unloading his cart onto the belt when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s probably just JT, he thinks, so he ignores it for the time being. Alexander may be a lot of things, but rude isn’t one of them. He’s always been slightly annoyed watching someone go through a check out lane while in the middle of a phone call.

“That’ll be $56.95,” the cashier says, but Alexander’s phone buzzes again and he’s already zoning out, focused on the vibration. It isn’t until she repeats herself slightly louder that he snaps out of it and swipes his card.

By the time Alexander makes it outside he’s missed three calls— one from his agent, two from JT. Against his better judgement, he calls JT first.

“Isn’t the point of vacation to take a break?” Alexander rolls his eyes, knowing damn well JT can’t see him. “Or is Hawaii that boring without me?”

JT’s voice is low and oddly off when he speaks. “I’m uh, on my way back.”

“Right now?” Alexander laughs. He knows he’s a world of fun, but JT cutting his vacation short feels inexplicably selfish on his part. “We have all next season to hang out.”

JT falls silent, breath hitching in a way that makes Alexander’s stomach drop. Something is wrong— very, _very_ wrong.

“What is it?” Once the bags are loaded in the back, Alexander gets into his car. He doesn’t start it, preparing himself for the worst. Despite being in the midst of the whole Free Agent Frenzy, Alexander hasn’t worried much. The Avs like him. He’s sure he and his agent are close to coming to a deal. He remembers the other missed call and his stomach turns over. “Don’t even tell me you were traded.”

“No.” JT’s voice is shaky and— “You don’t know? Because if you don’t know…”

Alexander sighs, gripping the steering wheel. The other line beeps. He cocks his head, checks his phone and it’s his agent once again. “I’ll call you back in, like, five okay? Go get some fresh air or something.”

He only has about three seconds to wonder if maybe it was Tyson who was traded before his agent answers the phone with a, “what are your thoughts on the Toronto Maple Leafs?”

The funny thing about hockey— about being confident and so sure of yourself— is that it’s all bullshit. Alexander was sure he had his contract just about wrapped up— that next year would be even better than the last.

And then he was traded.

He doesn’t call JT back. He can’t. He, instead, sits in his car, hands shaking until he’s able to pull himself together enough to drive home. 

..

Alexander doesn’t care. He needs an apartment but it’s overwhelming and honestly exhausting all rolled into one. There’s plenty of places available, but the city, he quickly realizes, is huge. His going there in the first place was kind of sporadic and once he’s there, he instantly regrets it all.

All he has to do is text around and he’s quickly set up with a place through a friend of a friend. It’s a decent size and close to teammates he hasn’t even met yet. They let him store some of his boxes at their place for the time being. Alexander doesn’t think about moving in. Not yet. He just signs the papers and leaves.

His parents text him here and there, asking him what he plans to do with his clothing and his furniture, as if he’s thought that far ahead. All he’s really thinking about is a much-needed vacation that he’ll probably never take.

He goes to the only place that still feels like home anymore— Vancouver.

Tyson is around and he briefly thinks about texting him, but then remembers _why_ Tyson moved to Vancouver— to be with Dante. He tells himself not to miss Tyson and especially not to miss JT. Bothering them would just be a burden when they aren’t his roommates anymore.

He calls Tyson when he lands in Vancouver because calling JT makes everything far too real— because JT is level headed and sarcastic and he’s not really in the mood for a pissing contest over the phone— because Tyson is understanding and at the very least entertaining.

“So you found a place?” Tyson says when he answers. There’s laughter in the background and Alexander doesn’t have to ask to know he’s at Dante’s family’s lake house.

Alexander hums. “Signed the lease today.”

“JT with you?” The way Tyson asks makes it sound as if he’s expected nothing less. Like they’re some sort of package deal or something.

“What? No,” Alexander says. “God no.”

“Oh.” Tyson falls quiet when a second voice— Dante’s— interrupts with a _Hi, Kerfy!_ “Shh,” Tyson whispers and Alexander can barely make out the tail end of it, though it sounds a bit like, “He’s having a big gay crisis.”

“A _what_?” Alexander stutters. “What are you two saying?”

“Nothing,” Tyson says when his voice is clear again. “But uh, you should invite JT to your new place. I bet he’d like to see it. Make him carry all of the heavy boxes.”

Alexander tries to push what he thought he heard to the back of his mind. “I can carry my own boxes, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, we know. You’re _so_ strong,” Tyson fake swoons. “But come on. You can’t do it all alone.”

“Yes I can,” Alexander says because he has boxes in three different cities and friends in several more and not the slightest of clues what to do when your team sends you away. He picked Harvard. He picked Denver. Toronto is just… Toronto. It’s lonely and lacking what Tyson would call sentimental value— it’s _nothing_ Alexander would ever choose. Not when he had a home already. “It just sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tyson exhales and when his voice wavers, Alexander thinks maybe he’s said too much. “It does suck. But there’s no reason you have to be stubborn and do it all alone. Seriously. Invite JT. He’ll go.”

When they disconnect, Alexander decides he’s done thinking about it for the time being. He’s got plenty of winter clothes in Vancouver that need to be packed because he anticipates Toronto being so much colder— one, because Canada, and two, no JT to crank up the thermostat when he isn’t looking.

It’s stupid.

And to be fair, he does think about calling up JT and asking him to meet him back in Toronto, glancing at all of the taped up boxes at one end of his apartment. It isn’t everything— he’ll leave some stuff in Vancouver— but the essentials— the ones he didn’t need in Denver, like a blender that _isn’t_ JT’s— have to go with him.

In the end, Alexander doesn’t invite JT to his apartment. It’s a little reckless and probably far too assuming but he, instead, hops a red eye flight to Chicago. It’s like Toronto, he thinks— large and easy to find yourself lost if you don’t know your way around. Except when he lands, he knows exactly where to go—

The Compher's house.

..

Alexander knocks on the door, rocking back and forth on his feet and doing his best to ignore just how quickly his heart is beating. He’s never been on the property before and only recognizes it from countless snaps JT has sent him over the past few summers. 

It isn’t JT who opens the door, but his younger sister, Jesse, who rolls her eyes, turns and shouts without consequence. “JT, the dumbass showed up after all! You owe me $25!” When she turns back she smiles sweetly. “He’ll be right down.”

Alexander opens his mouth to thank her. That’s when the door slams in his face.

He thinks that maybe running is a better option when the door opens again, this time with JT standing on the other side. 

JT’s hair is slightly mussed, eyelids heavy and yet he’s seemingly stuck there in the doorway, eyes locked on Alexander. He opens his mouth but when nothing comes out, Alexander speaks instead.

“Uh, hi?”

JT laughs but it isn’t the warm, amused laugh Alexander has grown used to. It’s bitter and cuts through him like he’s sure is intended. “Were you even planning on saying goodbye?” And okay, Alexander thinks, he’s pissed, understandably. His gut reaction is to apologize, but cuts the bullshit and waves his hand dismissively. It’s not like he intends to be a dick, it’s just… _easier_ when he is. “I was traded, not murdered.”

JT scoffs and furrows his brows. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Okay, fine, goodbye,” Alexander says and it’s a little harsher than he intends, the weight of his words sinking when they’re spoken, feeling so very final. He’s left feeling hopeless and turns away from JT because admitting he’ll miss it all hurts more when he thinks about what he’s leaving behind.

“Yeah, goodbye, Kerf.” JT’s angry with a little something softer behind his narrowed eyes— something painful. “You know Josty cried, right?”

If he’s trying to make Alexander feel guilty, it’s not exactly working. “Josty _always_ cries. He cried when we were watching House Hunters last week.”

“It was emotional!” JT crosses his arms defensively. “And this is emotional for him, too. It’s hard for all of us. You know you were one of the first people to make him feel really welcome in Denver. When you’re a kid right out of college and thrown into this? That’s huge.”

“People get traded all of the time.” Alexander sighs. “Did he cry over Brutes?”

“Yes,” JT says pointedly. “Of course he did.”

Alexander digs deeper. “What about the guys who didn’t qualify?”

“Well, no, but—”

“So there,” Alexander says. “Because people get traded all of the time. That’s the business.”

“What does _that_ prove?” JT’s eyes narrow for probably the fifth time that hour. “Tyson didn’t live with any of those other guys. It’s not business to him— or me. We’re friends.”

In that moment, Alexander isn’t quite sure _what_ it was he was trying to prove. 

“Why are you really here, Kerf?” JT sighs.

“I wanted to see you.” Alexander’s body seems to be fighting against him, hands shaking when he lets the reality slowly sink in. Next season, when he hits the ice, JT won’t be there. He wanted to see him— _needed_ to, really. It’s something else that he could add to the list of stupid, he thinks. Stupid, but it’s the truth.

“Well,” JT says sounding slightly irritated. “Here I am.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Alexander sighs. JT’s tired eyes make his insides bubble up with guilt, like he’s the cause of this— like he _asked_ to be traded away. 

JT shrugs. “So you flew all the way from Toronto to Chicago?”

“No,” Alexander corrects. “I flew from Toronto to Vancouver, _then_ I flew to Chicago.”

“Oh,” JT snorts with the slightest of smiles. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Yeah, well,” Alexander says, stepping forward. “They don’t teach you _everything_ at Harvard.”

“Common Sense 101 wasn’t available when you were there, huh?” 

“Shut up.” Alexander gives JT’s shoulder a light shove, trying his hardest _not_ to smile. It’s hard to resist when JT leans closer.

“Make me,” JT says with the smuggest of grins.

Alexander thinks it’s as good a time as any to practice his common sense, stepping in and pressing his lips to JT’s in what’s probably an over-enthusiastic kiss. It’s rough and bruising and leaves Alexander’s head spinning when it all ends. 

JT laughs, running a hand over his face, cheeks just about matching his hair. “That was unfair.”

“You never laid down any rules,” Alexander counters, ready to defend his point if need be. Even on the cusp of flirting, he’s not afraid to be playfully argumentative.

JT shakes his head and pulls Alexander in for another kiss. This time it’s slow and purposeful. When JT’s thumb brushes Alexander’s cheek, he silently curses Toronto for pulling them in separate directions because now that they’re kissing, Alexander isn’t quite sure he can stop.

They do, eventually, Alexander’s face warm and JT’s lips looking pinker than ever.

“Now what?” JT asks.

Alexander takes one big mental step backwards to examine his life. He sees Toronto, but he also sees Colorado. It’s just a place now— for JT and Tyson and the rest of his former teammates— a place he’ll visit and revel in all of those memories he’s made the past few years. He’ll suit up in different colors in a different locker room but take familiar ice all while trying to do the exact opposite of what he’s spent the past few years doing— watching the Avalanche lose.

It’s a lot of process, leaving him surprisingly without an answer. “I don’t know?”

“We can figure it out,” JT says, voice just above a whisper. “Together.”

“Together?” Alexander raises an eyebrow, knowing his face must read as baffled.

JT smiles and it’s genuine. After two years of living together, Alexander would know. “As best as we can. I mean, if Josty can do it…”

“And Josty is _so_ clingy,” Alexander says. It makes the two of them laugh. He knows if Tyson were there he’d huff and puff and in the end call Dante, further proving his point. Not that having someone is a bad thing, he decides, when he catches JT staring. 

“We could do that, right?” JT ducks his head, showing just how vulnerable he can be. “The distance thing, I mean.”

Logical, Harvard grad Alexander would take his time to weigh the pros and cons of a long distance relationship. It’s present, admittedly lovestruck Alexander that mentally crumples up that list and tosses it over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I think we could.”

And when they kiss, he really believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the end is open ended. Up for interpretation? Sequel? Who knows! ;)
> 
> Find me @ dejadejayou on twitter.


End file.
